4. Laina #2
I’d just upended my entire life with one sentence, and for some reason, I wasn’t scared.
Sofia sparked against my neck, a little flare of heat that felt like approval.
“When can you officially start?” Traig asked, not looking up from his tablet.
“I need some time to wrap things up,” I said. “A week or more. I co-manage a clinic, though I suspect my partner will be eager to take over all my tasks.”
“A week?” Brovish asked.
“Nine days,” I said.
The number popped out of my mouth, but it felt right. I needed time to notify my patients and coordinate with the other clinic doctor about the final details related to the sale of my share of the clinic. And speak to the part-time vet to make sure she truly did want to go full-time.
But in my heart, I was already halfway out the door. I’d reviewed the paperwork. I just needed to sign it.
Was nine days enough time to stop being the veterinarian who’d taken over her father’s practice and start being someone new?
“That’s a Friday,” Traig said. “I’ll set up some time in the morning to go over things. Should I email everything to you in advance?”
“Yes, thanks.” I handed him one of the business cards I kept in my back pocket.
“Do you have any dietary restrictions?” Krem asked. “We usually do communal lunch on Fridays, and I need to make sure—”
“Krem,” Traig said. “She just agreed to take the position. Allow her time to adjust.”
“I’m being efficient.”
Drogar tapped his fingers on the counter. “Do you want to see the outdoor enclosures? We have mossnibbles. They were inside, but I’ve relocated them to their new pen. They’ve built a nest out of someone’s jacket.”
I’d read about mossnibbles. Palm-sized, they had mint green fur and teal-blue eyes. They stole household clutter and rearranged it all into nests. They whistled when they were happy.
“I’d love to see them.” The words came out too eager, but I didn’t care.
Drogar’s grin widened. “This way.”
I followed him toward the back door, and I realized halfway across the room that I wasn’t returning to the clinic yet. I was staying for a tour.
Drogar led me outside, narrating like a tour guide who’d had too much coffee. The mossnibbles had built a nest inside someone’s jacket and lined it with a worn glove, clipboards, three metal straws, and a deck of cards still in the plastic packaging. Traig’s jacket, based on his growl.
Krem appeared at my left side with a three-ring binder thicker than my veterinary pharmacology textbook.
“Intake protocols,” he said, holding it out. “Also adoption applications, health histories, and dietary specifications. I’ve organized everything by species. I’ll forward the electronic copy to your email.”
“This is impressive,” I said.
“Traig made me put it together.” He tapped the top of his head. “It’s all in my mind, but he pointed out that not everyone has the same memory as me.”
“Photographic?”
Frowning, he pulled his phone from his pocket and took my picture.
“Yes, it’s photographic now.” He gave me a sweet smile. “I take good pictures.”
“That’s, um, nice to have here at the rescue operation.”
“I think so too.”
We walked past the enclosures. I asked about surgical capabilities, quarantine procedures, and emergency protocols. They answered every question, often talking over each other and arguing about details.
Brovish stayed beside me the whole time. He didn’t interrupt or correct anyone. Just watched me ask questions and listened when I took notes on my phone.
When I looked up once, I caught him staring.
He didn’t look away.
By the time we circled back to the main building, the sun had started to sink toward the horizon, and the sky had turned pink and gold.
“I should go,” I said.
Sofia made a low, mournful sound.
“She doesn’t want you to leave,” Brovish said.
“I don’t want to leave either.”
His eyes went wide.
I cleared my throat. “But I have things to handle.”
“Of course,” he said.
I walked toward the front of the building with Sofia’s small claws digging into my jacket.
Brovish held out his hand toward the creature. “Sofia, she has to go. Come to me. I’ll give you a treat.”
She peeped and leaned against my neck.
“Laina will see you in nine days,” he told her gently. He reached up and carefully lifted the emberkit from my shoulder. Sofia fluttered her wings the entire time, her peeps escalating into full chirps.
Brovish lifted her up to eye level. “Laina will return. She made a promise.” He looked at me, still holding the emberkit between us. “You will return.”
It wasn’t really a question.
“Yes,” I said. “I do promise.”
His expression eased.
I walked to Bertha, and he stood by the entrance door, Sofia cradled in his arms, watching me go.
The gate opened when I punched in the code, and I drove through, watching in the rearview mirror as it closed behind me. The road stretched ahead, dark trees pressing in on both sides. Halfway toward the main road, it dawned on me that I hadn’t thought once about what I was leaving behind.
Only about what I was coming back to in nine days.
My phone buzzed before I’d made it to town. Seeing Brovish’s name, I pulled over.
He’d sent a photo of Sofia on his shoulder, her round face turned toward the camera, her wings flared.
His read, She says nine days is too long.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I should keep this professional.
I texted back, Tell her I agree.
Then I put the truck into drive and headed home to review my partner’s offer on the clinic.